Playwright Mia McCullough’s dark, witty new play, “Household Spirits,” is a ghost story through and through, but the mental health struggles, addiction and grief that haunt its characters are every bit as scary as the mysterious noises and doors that refuse to stay shut. In its world premiere at Theater Wit, Eileen Tull directs a fantastic cast that pulls off humor, pain, familial dysfunction and bizarre plot twists equally well.

Set within commuting distance of New York City, the play centers on a wealthy family that includes power couple Philip (Doug MacKechnie) — recently enrolled in Alcoholics Anonymous after being arrested for driving while intoxicated — and Evelyn (Jennifer Jelsema), a high-achieving executive in the entertainment industry. Their recent marriage made mismatched stepsiblings of Erik (Nathan Hile), Philip’s 17-year-old son who is terrified of inheriting his late mother’s schizophrenia, and Evelyn’s daughter, Rox (Téa Baum), a sorority member whose upbeat Valleyspeak belies some serious problems she’s facing at college. In a few scenes, we also meet Rox’s father, Leo (Joe Zarrow), who was recently released from prison.

But there’s another member of the household that none of them can see: Philip’s first wife, Clara (Ilyssa Fradin), who has never left the home since her suicide 13 years ago. The only person who seems aware of her presence is Angela (Cindy Gold), the tough but warmhearted household manager who has helped raise Erik. Clara spends her days knitting and watching the family, speaking to them but remaining unheard, and above all, longing to hold her son again. At first, she seems a benign if mischievous ghost, but her darker side is gradually revealed as we learn more about her tragic death — and her intentions for the future.

Early in the play, as the family gathers for a joint celebration of Hanukkah and Christmas, another spectral figure joins them: a life-size, sentient rag doll named Julia (voiced by Suzanne Petri), an heirloom that escaped the Holocaust with Rox’s paternal grandmother. The holder of secrets both literal and figurative, Julia has a cavity between her legs that was meant to smuggle the family’s valuables out of Nazi Germany. This bit of anatomical correctness leads to twisted humor and pathetic moments as various characters interact with her.

Manuel Ortiz’s set design is a striking representation of the rot eating away at this family. A large, flawless kitchen in cornflower blue and white dominates the space, but tucked into the corner is a small pantry that Clara considers her haven. A gaping hole in the wall reveals its interior, which is still covered with drawings that Erik made as a child, and sickly brown stains line the torn edges of the drywall. It’s no wonder the house hasn’t garnered any interest since Philip and Evelyn put it on the market; even if the moldering wall is a visual metaphor intended only for the audience’s eyes, rumors have spread to potential buyers about the property’s dark history.

McCullough has quite a gift for writing dialogue; it’s rich in evocative details and layered with meanings that were still unfurling for me hours later. Plus, her writing is downright funny — often the most so when characters aren’t trying to make a joke — and the cast nails the comedic timing.

On a more serious note, McCullough writes with sensitivity and pathos about the traumas experienced by multiple generations of this family. Philip’s alcoholism, fueled by his lingering grief for Clara, takes him on a roller coaster that hits rock bottom on Christmas Day. As Clara witnesses his downward spiral, she realizes that she was mistaken to think her death would be a relief to her husband — an insidious lie that mental illness has whispered into so many ears.

Erik’s character arc raises hard questions about how society treats misfit young men and whether stigma about mental illness can become a self-fulfilling prophecy. For most of his life, everyone has been waiting for him to develop symptoms like his mother’s. When Rox calls him a “Columbine” type and Erik admits to having an interest in firearms, the house manager’s preshow warning about fake gunfire comes to front of mind. And yes, there is a gun, but things don’t play out how one might think.

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“Household Spirits” is the second new Chicago play in as many years to use a ghost story as a vehicle for exploring grief. During the 2022 Destinos Festival, Teatro Vista premiered the excellent “Enough to Let the Light In,” Paloma Nozicka’s psychological thriller about maternal guilt and the loss of a child. In the same vein but with a style all her own, McCullough’s spooky comedy examines very real traumas and fears that have haunted many a family, whether or not they have a ghost in their pantry.

Emily McClanathan is a freelance critic.

Review: “Household Spirits” (3.5 stars)

When: Through Nov. 11

Where: Theater Wit, 1229 W. Belmont Ave

Running time: 2 hours, 35 minutes

Tickets: $18-$55 at 773-975-8150 and theaterwit.org